Days Spent Dead
by RedShirt94
Summary: "Sometimes, after especially difficult days or when he's too tired to not think about it, Kakashi wonders why he even tries." Slight KakaObi.


**The Eccentric Otaku:** And here's a KakaObi oneshot! Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a little review before you leave.

**Warning:** Slight KakaObi, and I'm pretty sure there are a few swear words somewhere in there...maybe.

**Disclaimer:** Peyton does not own Naruto. Because if she did, things would not have went so downhill.

* * *

The wind sang a soothing melody, softly caressing a lone figure as he sat over a memorial stone, silent.

Kakashi Hatake, a man of twenty-seven, was renowned for being late to everything. He was late to his teams' training sessions, late to friendly outings in which he was bullied into paying for Naruto's abysmal stomach, and even late to important meetings. What others did not know, however, was that there was one thing Kakashi was never late to.

He was never late to visit the Memorial Stone.

He would usually go straight there in the mornings, or often during the night when he couldn't sleep, eyes glazing over as he pretended that none of this was real and imagined what life would have been, or talking to it as if _he_ could hear him from beyond the grave.

_Obito Uchiha._

While Kakashi might have known half of the other names, that one stood out from the rest, like a gap in someone's two front teeth. It symbolized so many things. His regret, his mistakes, grief and _so much pain_, his freedom, but most of all, it symbolized his life.

It took Kakashi a long time to realize it, sometime years after the boy's death, but every moment he was with Obito, he was _living_.

The insults flying back and forth, the stupid and oh so pointless fighting, and the huffs as they turned from each other with secret, unnoticeable smiles after each fight. Those were the things, the simple little things, which had kept Kakashi human over the years. The things that kept him living.

Now that they were gone, he was nothing but an empty shell. A carcass left to simmer and rot in the years that passed. They were now distant memories that he struggled each and every day to never forget.

He would go on, smile and joke with his team as if everything was hunky-dory, but it wasn't. He wasn't okay. It hadn't been since that day, and it probably would never be again.

Sometimes, after especially difficult days or when he's too tired to not think about it, Kakashi wonders why he even tries. Why did he wake up in the mornings, where he would have that one moment of pure bliss where nothing quite registers before remembering that _he_ wasn't there, and he'd have to go through another day without him.

He would have to get dressed and go to that team that reminded him each and every day of how _they_ used to be. Their uncanny resemblances were so alike, it sent a wave of dread through Kakashi. He could only hope they would not end the same as his team. Broken. Dead.

He had to walk through his village, passing things that sent waves after waves of memories of the boy, and before long, he would feel suffocated in his own village, and he was forced to return home for the day to sleep it off.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, as he lied there unable to sleep, he wondered why he kept on going, or why he never gave up.

After all, he wasn't exactly living. The only living he did was when Obito was alive and by his side, constantly reminding him of the things he had long forgotten.

Sometimes Kakashi would even cry, remember, and he would _wonder_, wonder why he kept on when he obviously didn't want to.

And then he would remember.

He would remember Obito's eyes, heavy and so painfully ready for death. He would remember the raspy breath as he told Kakashi to _live_. He would remember Obito's last words.

Obito had wanted him to live. He had even gone as far as to give up his Sharingan, which he had tried so hard to achieve just so his family wouldn't see him as the idiot failure, and would see what was underneath. The pure, addicting boy that had been the center of Kakashi's life for almost forever. He had sacrificed so much for Kakashi.

These memories were the only things that got Kakashi up in the mornings, the only things that kept him from accidentally moving in the path of sharp and pointy projectiles. They were the thinning rope that kept him from falling over the edge, from ending things at this very moment.

Kakashi sat on the ground, taking a moment to make himself comfortable as he knew he would be there for hours to count, and he talked.

He recounted all of their old and silly fights, he told them of his new team, how similar they were. He talked and talked to the stone, to Obito.

Because reminiscing of Obito and how he used to live was the closest thing Kakashi would ever come to living once again.


End file.
